


Whisper My Name And The Night Won't Tell

by AMiserableLove



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-05 00:39:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMiserableLove/pseuds/AMiserableLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feeling slightly lost and scared of what's to come in Storybrooke, Emma finds that her late night wanderings lead her directly to a certain pirate captain. Feeling compelled to let her guard down she boards his ship. And unsure what she's looking for, she finds herself no longer able to deny herself the chance to find out. This earns an M rating folks. Slight angst. Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whisper My Name And The Night Won't Tell

* * *

She's not sure what she's doing in his cabin.

She only knows that she had nowhere else to go.

Things are spiraling out of control fast. Neal and Henry are getting closer; she and Henry are drifting apart. Mary Margaret is headed down a dark and dangerous path and the lost look in David's eyes is enough to make anyone turn away.

With Cora gone, she had hoped to feel a sense of relief.

But something's about to happen…she can feel it in her bones.

And she's tired.

So very tired.

And she's scared.

Terrified of what's to come.

For one night she just wants it to all go away.

"You're an awfully dull drinking mate darling."

His voice is soft, spoken from the other side of the small cabin. It's nearly emotionless save for the tiny note of inquiry woven into it. Closing her eyes for a moment, she asks herself for the hundredth time since she had stepped foot onto his ship… _what the hell is she doing here?_

"Emma love, what is it you're looking for?"

Tightly gripping the small bottle of rum he had given her upon entering his cabin with a small smirk and a slight brushing of hands, she turns slowly and faces him. He's casually leaning against the wall, arms crossed in front of him, legs sticking out ever so slightly. He looks every bit the part of the dark and dangerous pirate captain his namesake claims him to be. And yet, he appears relaxed and at ease, the polar opposite of how she feels…all nerves and stress—her anxiety is nearly overwhelming.

"I don't know," she whispers in a hoarse voice. Bringing the liquor to her lips, she takes a long swig, relishing the burning sensation as it glides down her throat and settles low in her belly, warming her entire body along the way.

He raises a black brow at her vague answer but doesn't comment; instead he pushes away from the wall and begins to idly walk around the room. Running his fingers over the desk that sits in the farthest corner, he smiles a bit, the expression appearing sinister rather than comforting.

"I think you know exactly why you're here." He tells her in a low voice, the lilting tone wickedly seductive, the hint of danger causing a shudder to ripple down her spine.

"I—I um…" she falters, stuttering with her words.

She hates how off balanced he makes her feel and resents the suggestive gleam in his eyes. She's really not sure how she had ended up drinking in his cabin. Somehow during her late night walk to nowhere the docks had called to her and his ship had lured her in. No matter how hard she'd tried, she had been unable to resist the invisible pull. Even with almost everything in her screaming for her to turn around and run away from the water, the ship, and him, a smaller, louder part of her had gently pushed her forward, whispering for her to take a chance and to let her guard down if only for one night.

Letting her eyes wander around the cabin, her face heats a bit as she thinks about the late hour, the strong liquor, and the cramped space. She's quite certain she knows what he expects now that she's here, and she'd be lying if she said it hadn't crossed her mind.

"Why my dear _Sheriff_ _Swan_ …is that a blush?"

Her face grows even hotter at his smug observation and before she can stop herself she raises a hand to her face, pressing cool fingers to her flaming cheeks.

"Why are you here?" he asks again, deliberately this time, slowly drawing out the words.

She swallows, and raising her chin, stares at him defiantly, lifting her shoulders in what she hopes appears to be a careless shrug. "Because I want to be."

The grin he shoots her is devastating and she can't help but wonder how often he has used that same smile as a vicious weapon as it's every bit as lethal as the hook that rests at the end of his left arm.

"Ahhhh so you've finally succumbed to your most primal needs."

She flinches a bit at that, and leveling him with a glare, sucks in a deep breath before speaking, "What—what are you talking about?"

He smiles at her faltered words and begins to leisurely walk towards her, moving with confidence—an air of certainty surrounds him. "Oh come now love, no need to play games. Who else in your precious _Storybrooke_ would give you what you so desire, what you crave with every fiber of your being?" His words are softly spoken and almost mocking.

Biting her lip as he takes another step forward, moving even closer, her heart picks up in pace as the air stirs with a tension that is near tangible. "What do I desire?" she whispers, hating the breathy quality of her voice as her tone nearly wavers with the question.

He stops directly in front of her, their bodies just barely touching, "Everyone in this bloody town treats _The Savior_ with kid gloves. No one would dare touch her. No one would dare allow her to give into her darkest, most decadent needs...and your wishes… _well..._ they are quite wicked pet, aren't they?" At her scowl, he merely smiles with a wink and leaning forward so that their bodies still aren't quite touching, he places his lips near her ear—his hot breath burns her skin and a shiver claims her body fast. "Don't deny it lass, I can see it in your eyes. No one will give you what you want so you come and seek solace with the villainous _Captain Hook_..." Darting his tongue out slowly, he gently runs it along the shell of her ear and she's surprised when she doesn't stop breathing right then and there.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You abandon me to heal the crocodile…yet you find yourself here of your own free will, on my ship, in my cabin, in the dead of night. Quite interesting."

"I—this isn't why I came here." She says, her eyes closing as he moves even closer, so that now their bodies are pressed together, the heat and smell of leather invading her senses.

His answering laugh to her weak protest is dark and taunting, "you are a terrible liar Swan."

"I just needed some space from it all," she attempts lamely. She doesn't know why she's not resisting him more, she can hold her own against him, that much has been proven in the past.

"Ahhh well then we are in quite the terrible predicament darling." As he speaks, he moves his mouth just a bit—his voice caresses the sensitive skin of her neck, and she jumps a little when he reaches out and brushes her loose hair behind her shoulders.

"Why?" she asks, tilting her head back and raising her eyes to his, she immediately registers her mistake as stormy threatening blue meets her slightly hazy stare.

"Because I have no intention of giving you any space."

And before she can question his words, he's hauling her towards him hard in a swift deliberate movement. Surprised, she lets out a distressed little whimper, taken off guard by the suddenness of his actions. And just as she's about to give him a piece of her mind, wanting nothing more than to push him away and drop him on his ass, his mouth covers hers fast—his lips are hot and demanding and she doesn't even think as she responds almost immediately to his sensual assault. Moving her hands up his chest, over his shoulders, and hooking them around his neck, she draws him even nearer, needing to close the fractional amount of space that still lingers between them.

Running his tongue over her lips, he nips at them lightly and she can feel his mouth quirk into a smile when she gasps softly. Ever calculating, he uses it to his advantage, delving his tongue into her mouth. Instinctively she fights him for dominance and trying to gain control of the situation, she attempts to give as good as she gets. Digging her fingers into his hair, she presses her body to his, and she can feel him tense against her at the contact. When he makes a small noise in the back of his throat, one that's lost between a grunt and a groan, a thrill of triumph rushes through her fast but her victory is soon short lived. His clever tongue, sweeps the contours of her mouth and he gently lures hers into a sensual dance as his good hand runs feather light up and down the length of her torso. Just barely touching her, he makes her crave more—she'd beg for it, she's fairly certain she would, and it's then that she fears she might be fighting a losing battle.

With that in mind, she completely ignores the tiny protesting cry lingering in the back of her brain, instead she gives herself over to him. He's slow and methodical with his kiss, he knows what he's after and he's taking his time getting it. As he deepens the kiss, angling his head ever so slightly, she holds him tighter; the slight change pushing her into sensory overload as his scruffy beard scratches her delicate skin, her body grows hot with the heat from his, and her thighs quiver in anticipation because she knows this is not a simple kiss that's going to end with a murmured goodnight.

Oh no, she knows exactly how this is going to end.

It's not long before he turns her, his mouth still on hers, he walks her backwards and she's aware that he's heading towards the bed. Her pulse races and her stomach twists into tense little knots at the thought of what's coming next and she mentally chastises herself because she's not an inexperienced woman and this is just sex, nothing more, nothing less. But even with the determined thought in her mind, when the back of her knees hit the mattress, her spine goes rigid and panic edges its way into her brain. He must feel her tense because abruptly he pulls away, unceremoniously breaking the kiss—almost immediately she registers the loss of warmth.

"Is this what you want?" His blue eyes are blazing, and his voice is strained, but she sees the barest hint of concern in his unwavering stare and a tiny crack appears in the emotional armor she's fought so hard to keep in place for most of her life.

She doesn't even have to think about her answer.

"Yes." She says it softly and even though her emotions are in overdrive and her head feels a bit dizzy, her tone is sure and unyielding.

He nods, his mouth tightens into a tight grim line and she nearly laughs out loud at the sight—it seems so out of place as she's just agreed to sleep with him. But she doesn't question the odd reaction and he doesn't say another word; he only lowers her to the bed slowly, gently, almost delicately. Sitting back on his knees, without ceremony, he pulls off her boots, throwing them carelessly to the side. Staring at her for a moment, his lips quirk up into his signature infuriating grin and he stands again, his hand immediately making work of the buttons on his shirt. Looking away, she undoes her jeans, raising her hips off the bed and shimmying out of them quickly before lifting her shirt over her head and throwing it to the floor. When she's laying in only her bra and underwear she lifts her gaze to him, and notices with a hitch in her breath that he has also rid himself of his clothing and is staring down at her with a shocking look of complete and utter awe. Heart pounding and pulse racing, she locks eyes with him, slowly reaching behind her to the clasp of her bra, she snaps it open and pulls it off of her, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of her clothing.

"Good gods Emma." he says in a hoarse voice, his eyes raking over her barely clad form.

Something warm rushes through her at the sound of her name on his lips, and her body heats with a hot blush as he continues to blatantly study her, allowing his gaze to linger over her legs, up her thighs and to the gentle swell of her breasts before finally bringing his eyes back to hers. They hold each other's stare for a moment, neither saying anything—he standing stoically over the bed, she lying anxiously on the mattress beneath her. The room practically sparks and sizzles with a crackling sensation and she swears she's getting wet from his scorching gaze alone. Finally, he shakes his head; the action quick and abrupt as if he's trying to break whatever spell had fallen over them. And then in one languid movement he lowers himself to the bed, wedging a knee between her legs. Biting her lip, she nearly jumps as he brushes against her in the place where she's so suddenly aching for him most. Seeing her reaction, he smirks down at her and almost as if reading her thoughts, teasingly edges the tip of his knee closer to her. At the almost touch, she narrows an eyebrow and he in response, raises one of his. It's an unspoken challenge—as his body hovers over hers, he silently dares her to say something, his eyes never leaving hers.

But she's unable to speak, her throat too tight, her thoughts too jumbled—so she silently concedes with a gentle lift of her shoulders and a tiny smirk of her own.

She see the flash of bright white teeth against the darkened backdrop of the room before he dips his head down slowly. Tilting her chin up, she anticipates another kiss, selfishly craving it, needing to satisfy her hunger to taste him once more. Only, his lips meet her neck instead of her mouth and he lazily begins nibbling the skin there—nipping and biting softly before running his tongue over the sensitive flesh and soothing it gently. Closing her eyes, she lets out a choked little laugh, because tenderness was not something she had expected from him and so far it's all he's shown her tonight.

His gentle touches and lazy kisses are too much…too dangerous.

She needs heat and passion.

She needs to forget what she's doing and whom she's doing it with.

_She needs more.  
_

Drawing her hands up over his back, running her fingers along the scars that adorn his skin, she fists her hands into his hair and forces his head up, claiming his lips in a fervent, nearly brutal kiss. His mouth curves into a smile at her aggressiveness but he quickly matches her pace with equal enthusiasm. Slowly his good hand wanders down her body, brushing his fingers across her taut stomach, he comes to a stop at the waistband of her underwear, stroking the outline of it lightly before moving even lower still.

At his tantalizingly slow movements, she moans in frustration into his mouth and his answer is a dark chuckle before, in a move she isn't anticipating, he quickly yanks down the flimsy fabric. Tossing it aside, he pushes one long clever finger into her. She gasps into his mouth at the intrusion and her gasp quickly turns into a moan as he strokes her lazily, touching her knowingly, in a way that has her whole body feeling as if it's burning with a gloriously dangerous passion induced fire.

"Hook," she whispers into his mouth, because she needs more and she knows he's deliberately holding back.

He lifts his head from her and patiently waits for her to meet his burning stare. The intensity of it nearly takes her breath away and she's momentarily lost, falling slowly into the endless blue depths, allowing him to strip her down, leaving her exposed and defenseless beneath him. And just when she can feel the beginnings of panic work its way into her mind, afraid that he's seeing too much of her, quickly and without warning she's snapped out of her reverie, torn away from his knowing eyes as he pushes another finger into her, causing her to cant her hips off the bed as her hands clench the blankets beneath her and her body begs him for more. He pumps his fingers in and out of her slowly, building up her pleasure deliberately—she almost doesn't recognize the soft moans and whimpers that tumble from her lips as her own, the sounds are so foreign to her ears. And while she knows he could make her come undone with his fingers alone...it's not enough.

It'll never be enough.

"Hook." She whispers again, her thighs clenching as he curves a finger just slightly and strokes her deeply, sending bolts of pleasure rippling throughout her body. "Oh God." It comes out a sob, and she hates him at that moment because she needs him and he's playing games with her.

And she just wants _more._

He curves his finger again, and another broken moan escapes her lips followed by an aggravated stuttered curse. He's a bastard pirate for holding back...she wants to tell him as much but words are too hard to form at the moment. Her brain feels as if it's short-circuiting while her traitorous body silently pleads for more.

"What do you desire Emma?"" he asks softly, his velvet voice wrapping around her, sinful and dark… _and perfect._

"You." She breathes, lifting her hips again towards his busy hand, and crying out when he begins pumping his fingers in and out of her with fast and shallow movements.

"Tell me." He demands in a harsh and low tone.

And as he continues to fuck her with his fingers only, she bites her lip. Drawing blood, she relishes the metallic taste, trying to focus on that...on anything else...because she doesn't want to come yet, not without him fully inside of her.

"I need you to—" he curves his finger again and she curses him because she knows how much he must enjoy having her at his mercy and she makes a promise in the back of her mind that she will pay him back for this. But right now, she's so tightly wound that it's near impossible for her to think about anything other than having him inside of her. "I need you—I need you inside me…oh God please... _please_." She hates that she's begging him, she hates what he's reduced her to with a few kisses and one intimate touch.

But her words seem to have an affect on him because his entire body tenses and his sharp intake of breath isn't lost on her. He pulls his fingers out of her and she whimpers at the loss before registering the feeling of his hard length pressed up against her wet and aching heat.

"Emma." He says her name just once, softly almost reverently, before pushing into her in one swift fluid movement.

Closing her eyes, she arches off the bed, tilting her head back as he fills her completely, unable to stop the wavering cry that tumbles from her lips, the sound deafening in the silent cabin.

"Gods…help me." He whispers, his breath feathering across her skin, his voice pained and rough.

She can feel herself tightening around him, welcoming him and adjusting to his size. Embarrassingly enough, she's surprised when she doesn't just come right there; her entire body is tingling and quivering with need. When he doesn't move and stays still, completely sheathed inside of her, she moans a bit, whimpering as she lifts her hips off the bed and wraps her legs around him in an effort to get him to do something… _anything._

"Emma," he says softly, his voice drifting to her ears, just barely gaining her attention over the sudden roaring in her head. "Look at me."

Opening her eyes, she meets his steely blue gaze and the emotions she sees raging there nearly takes her breath away. Letting out a shaky sigh she fights not to look away, afraid to show him any kind of vulnerability.

"Emma," He brings his hand up and his thumb lightly strokes her cheek; the touch is so gentle and tender, her throat tightens up and something clenches in her heart.

"Please, " she whispers, shifting her hips upwards again, attempting to entice him into action.

At the movement, he curses at her under his breath and the choked sound almost makes her smile, but the grin is swiftly lost on her lips, shadowed by the still intensely frightening look gleaming in his eyes. "Emma." He says her name again, and in that one simple word she hears everything that terrifies her and thrills her all at once. She wants to run away and hold him close, curse him out and whisper her darkest secrets…. _love him and hate him._

"Please," she says again, the sound very closely resembling a broken sob and finally she looks away from him, unable to continue staring into his openly honest gaze. Horrified, she feels tears begin to well at the corners of her eyes, and she wants to pound her fists against his chest and yell at him while calling him filthy and horrible names because _this_ wasn't supposed to happen…he wasn't supposed to make her _feel_ things she had long thought herself incapable of feeling. "Please Killian," she gasps, shaking her head from side to side while still avoiding his eyes.

Her voice breaks on his name—it's not lost on her that it's the first time she's ever spoken it.

He's silent for a moment, the atmosphere charged and intense until finally she hears him sigh softly. "Very well," he states quietly in a slightly defeated voice.

And she hates herself for not being stronger at that moment, she wishes she could look at him, she wishes she could face him.

But then he's moving inside of her and all coherent thoughts flee her already jumbled brain.

He moves slowly at first, his thrusts unhurried, his movements deliberate, but as she raises her hips to meet his, it's not long before they set a frantic and frenzied pace. They're relatively quiet; her whimpers and moans are soft and stinted, his groans and grunts low and hushed. The slapping of skin against skin echoes throughout the room…the sounds only further fueling her desire and lust for the man above her. As he continues to move, pumping himself into her hard, she can feel herself being to tremble—her body buzzes and hums while heat coils low in her belly.

"Killian," his name comes out somewhere between a prayer and a curse and as she arches off the bed, climbing higher towards her impending release, she swears she hears the faint sound of a taunting chuckle low in her ears. Gritting her teeth she tries to hang on. With a tilt of her hips she attempts to gain the upper hand, trying to concentrate on anything but the feel of him inside of her, wanting to prove that he doesn't have any power over her. But then he leans down slowly and places his lips near her ear, stilling inside of her, he draws out a long moan of protest from her.

"Yield to me Emma. Let yourself go."

Before she can respond he pulls out and slams hard into her again. And pulling out and pushing into her again and again and again he sets another brutal pace. With his harsh and unrelenting movements, she's lost, frantically chasing her pleasure, not caring who's in control or who's besting who.

And just as her walls begin to tighten up and her toes begin to curl, he snakes his hand between their bodies. Finding her sensitive bundle of nerves, he presses his thumb to her and pushes himself into her once more with a final hard thrust.

"Give yourself over to me Emma."

And with those words she goes crashing over the edge.

Her body hurling upwards, she throws her arms around his neck and hugs him close, sobbing his name out as she clenches around him and comes hard and fast. Dimly she hears him groan into her neck, vaguely she's aware of him pulsing inside of her, but her pleasure is too great, her emotions too intense for her to pay him much attention—selfishly she seeks her own satisfaction while only faintly acknowledging the way he whispers her name as he comes undone above her.

And as she drifts down from her high, her body limp, her breathing heavy, she continues to hug him tightly to her, telling herself she'll hold him for only a little while longer, reassuring herself one more moment is all she needs.

Vaguely she acknowledges the voice in her head that quietly asks her to never let go.

* * *

Shrugging on her jacket, she tries to shake the feeling of his eyes on her. Since she had gotten up to leave he's done nothing but quietly lay in his bed. Only half dressed in a pair of black pants she had thrown at him, he silently watches her every move, seemingly content with saying nothing and staring unblinkingly.

It's unnerving.

Turning towards the door she stares at it hard for a moment, something inside of her dimming a little at the thought of leaving his ship. Shaking the feeling, she takes in a deep shuddering breath, and glances over at him; equal parts annoyed and amused by the smug and satisfied look that crosses his too attractive features as she catches his stare.

"I—um I guess I'm gonna go now."

"You could always stay for a repeat performance love."

Rolling her eyes, she scowls at him even as images of his suggestion bombard her brain, heating her body and confusing her thoughts. "Yeah not gonna happen. I'm going home now Hook."

"Back to Hook are we?"

At the hint of venom laced in his voice, she frowns and swallowing tightly, glances away from his scorching gaze. "I guess…I mean, I don't know…listen about what happened…"

He sits up a little and the knowing smirk he shoots her has her spine going rigid while her defenses flare up. "Yes about what happened _Sheriff Swan_ …"

"Nevermind…I'm just…I'm leaving.

Quickly turning from him, she makes her way to the door, desperate to leave his presence—the longer she stays the harder she fears it'll be for her to leave.

"Emma." His voice softly calls to her, and she closes her eyes on a wince, silently angry at him for stopping her when she was _so close_ to escaping.

On a sigh she turns around and levels him with an even glare. "What?"

The corners of his mouth twitch up into a small smirk at her harsh tone and he sits up, slowly rising from the bed. "I'm letting you run away right now because I think you need to. I think you're afraid." Annoyed by his accusation, she opens her mouth to protest but her words are cut off by his sharp look and she falters when he begins to leisurely walk towards her with slow and fluid steps. "Open book darling, remember? _You're afraid_. So because I can tell how desperately you need to…I'm going to let you run. I don't expect you to speak words you are not ready to say." His tone is soft, gently spoken in his hypnotizing and lilting voice. "And I don't expect you to listen to words you are not ready to hear. So I'm going to let you go…because right now it's what _you_ think is best and I won't fight you on it…not tonight." As he stops in front of her, she forces herself to meet his gaze, and briefly she wonders if he can hear the pounding in her chest, her heart is beating so hard it's almost painful. "But lass..." reaching out, he picks up a lock of her hair and tucks it behind her ear, his fingers lingering near her cheek. The touch is so gentle, she nearly shudders—it's a struggle to keep her eyes open. "I'm not done with you yet."

Her gaze shoots to his at the words and she can feel her mouth drop open slightly as her cheeks heat uncomfortably. She doesn't want the simple statement to have such a huge affect on her but no matter how hard she tries to fight it, his words resonate softly in her head and very suddenly there are tears in her eyes. Clearing her throat she looks down at the ground, unable to continue to meet his unwavering blue stare when she's so close to completely crumbling in front of him. Taking a moment she breathes in deeply. Attempting to calm herself, she gathers her resolve with a determined little nod.

With each passing second she's that much closer to throwing herself into his arms.

That much closer to opening herself up to him.

Finally she breaks the tense silence, "I have to go" she says quietly, the words tumbling from her lips almost reluctantly while something inside of her whispers... _stay._

But she can't...not tonight...she's not ready for _that._

She's not ready yet...but _soon_ maybe. _  
_

Still unable to meet his stare, she steps up to him, brushing her lips softly against his cheek, she closes her eyes and inhales the rich and spicy scent of him, "Goodnight _Killian._ "

And without another word, she pushes past him and opens the door—her head swirling with thoughts and images, her heart full of terrifying and dangerous emotions. Nearly overwhelmed with the need to distance herself, she hurriedly steps into the cool night air, trying to regain control of her feelings. Her attempts prove to be in vain though, she's unable to deny the stirrings of hope and _something else_ — _s_ omething so potent and pure that she wants so badly to resist it, to fiercely push it away, rejecting it entirely.

But she can't.

It's scary how well he seems to know her sometimes, how he can quietly observe her and learn all of her secrets with one intense and searching look.

He was right—she needs to leave him tonight…she needs to run.

But even as she realizes this, his words ring in her ears, laced with promises and the lure of _something_ she had long given up on.

And she can almost see the tiny spark of light inside of her—one she had thought had faded away over a decade ago— begin to burn again.

" _I'm not done with you yet."_

And just before she steps off the dock, she glances behind her at the dark space where she knows his enchanted ship hides...

She's quite certain she's not done with him either.

_End._


End file.
